


Life, Unseen

by scifinut



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifinut/pseuds/scifinut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia gets hurt in the line of duty. Written for hc_bingo on LJ, the prompt was "loss of vision".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life, Unseen

It's the constant steady beeping that wakes me up. I come up slowly from a deep sleep, but the sounds aren't right for the apartment. Neither are the linens. I try to remember where I am, but everything is a blank. Carefully I try to move my hands, to feel around me, but all I get for my trouble is a lot of pain.

"Easy, Liv. Don't try to move." Elliot's voice. He lays his hand on my shoulder, gently. "Do you remember what happened?"

I'm in a hospital. That's the only explanation that makes any sense. "No," I whisper. I try to open my eyes, but something is covering them.

"What do you remember?" His voice is so calm, but I know there's more behind it. He's keeping calm for my benefit.

I rack my brain, trying to remember what could have sent me here. "The last thing I can remember is going in to Ramirez's apartment to try and find him. Elliot, why is my face bandaged? What the hell happened?" There's a note of panic in my voice, I notice, and try to calm myself down before I get too worked up.

Elliot takes a deep breath. I know immediately something is very wrong, he only does that as a stalling tactic. "You went in first." A pause. "There was a bomb in there, Liv." He stops again, for longer. "Your face got pretty torn up. So did your eyes. The docs aren't sure how they're going to turn out."

I want to rub my hands over my face. I want to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the world. I want to know that they're still there, but I'm bandaged from what feels like the nose up. And the more I think about talking, the more I realize it hurts, too.

"Go home, El. There's nothing you can do for me," I mutter. And it's true. He can't do anything. Except tell me who's coming in the door, reassure me by his presence that I'm not being forgotten, keep me from overthinking and worrying about everything until I make myself half mad with baseless worries. But I don't tell him that.

I can almost hear his smile. It's the smug one, the one that comes out when he knows something that he thinks nobody else does. "Can't do that, Liv. Orders." He squeezes my shoulder gently. "Cragen said we're not supposed to leave you alone while you're blind. Somehow I pulled the graveyard shift." There's a hint of happiness to his voice, and I feel somewhat guilty. He shouldn't be glad to wait overnight with me in a hospital and avoid his family. But he is.

"And I say go home. I don't need a babysitter." As I speak there's another set of footsteps coming into the room.

"Our fearless leader says otherwise. Good to see you awake, though, Olivia." Munch is here. And by the smell of it, he brought Elliot coffee. "Here you go, just like you requested," he says, likely handing the drink off.

"And for me?" I ask, trying to sound pitiful. Something I don't have to work hard at for the moment.

"Ah, my dear, you're already receiving the finest gavage that Bellevue has to offer." He places his hand gently on my other shoulder. "How're you feeling?" His voice is serious this time. Jokes aside, I have him worried.

"Like a bomb went off in my face, which is what Elliot tells me happened. I can't remember it, though." He removes his hand and I can hear a chair scrape across the floor towards me. By instinct I turn my head to look for the source, but all I see is the blackness of my own inner eyelid.

On my other side, Elliot stands up. He gives my shoulder one last gentle squeeze. "Liv wants me to head home, so I think I'll follow her orders." It's maddening that I can't see his face. I know he's joking, but I just want to see it in his eyes.

"Take care, it's starting to snow pretty hard out there," Munch tells him. Despite all of his bravado, he really is just a softie.

"I'll see you later, Liv. Promise. And don't let this guy give you a hard time about anything, okay?"

"You got it," I reply softly. I'm so tired. I know I only just woke up, but now I can barely stay awake. I sigh and relax back into the bed.

"Sleep well," is the last thing I hear before I fall back into unconsciousness.

\-------------------

When I start to wake up again I try to open my eyes. This leads to a momentary panic when I realize I can't. Then the rest of my brain catches up and I remember where I am and what happened. That I'm blind and completely reliant on others to take care of me. The realization hits me that I'm utterly useless for the time being and it terrifies me. I can hear the difference in the beeping of the machine monitoring my pulse. It speeds up considerably. My breath catches in my chest. I'm having a panic attack in the hospital and can't even see if I'm alone for it.

Of course I'm not alone. There's another hand on my shoulder, then gently rubbing my arm. "Easy, Liv. It's okay." It's Fin. I'm not alone. And I should have known that from the point I woke up, but I'm allowed to be afraid. Fin keeps stroking my arm and offering platitudes until I calm down a bit. "Nice to see you awake. You alright?"

I want to lash out at him, tell him that of course I'm alright, I love being completely dependent on others. I want to tell him that it's fantastic being blind, that he should try it sometime for himself. I want to tell him anything I can that would hurt him. But I don't. "No," is all I can manage, and even then I'm damn near tears. Part of me wonders how that would work, with my face all bandaged up, and I realize that I'm probably well on my way to hysteria at this point.

Fin pulls me up off the bed gently and into his arms. He cradles me against himself, rocking us both gently and rubbing my back. "It's gonna be okay, baby girl," he whispers into my ear. "Just breathe for me. I ain't goin' anywhere, I'm gonna be here and make sure you're okay. I'm gonna take good care of you, alright?"

I nod and try to calm myself, but at this point I can't stop the sobs. I feel like a scared child, but at the same time with Fin's arms wrapped around me and his voice whispering to me I can't help but feel safe and secure.

\---------------------

I must have fallen asleep in Fin's arms because the next thing I remember is waking up yet again. I'm exhausted, but I feel better than I have since waking up the first time. "Morning, Liv," Fin says. I smile weakly at where his voice is coming from. "Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say. I don't know if there's anyone else in the room with us, so I leave it at that. Later, when I can see again and am on my own, I'll thank him again.

"Good," he says. "We got Ramirez last night, while you were passed out. Last I heard Elliot was giving him hell in interrogation."

I smile and try to muffle a snort of amusement. I can imagine exactly what Elliot is up to. "Munch in with him playing good cop?" The two of them play off each other almost as well as Elliot and I do. Different, but effective.

"Nah, Cragen's in there with him. Munch's on his way over here." Fin reaches out and rests an arm on the bed, brushing against mine. "Should be here any minute."

"Fin, how long has it been since we entered Ramirez's apartment?" There was no way we should have caught him this fast, Richard Ramirez was smart. If he had left a bomb in his place he wouldn't have let himself get caught too easily.

"Just a couple of days. You've been pretty out of it until the last few days. We were worried, docs said there coulda been brain damage, but I think that's been ruled out by now. Ramirez is an idiot, though. Caught him sneakin' back into his last girlfriend's place."

That explained why my face didn't feel too terribly bad, even though I distinctly remembered Elliot telling me that it had been torn up. "How long since I went mental on you?" I ask, trying not to sound too serious.

"Only about an hour. Just a catnap compared to the days at a time you've been doing." I was fairly certain he was smiling, but damnit, I just wanted to see for sure.

"Thanks, by the way. I don't know what happened, I was just..."

"Scared shitless, I get that. Don't mention it." He reaches out and grips my forearm, squeezing it. "Besides, if I had let you freak out and get hurt, Elliot woulda had my ass."

Footsteps coming into the room. Before I can think to compare them to any stride I know, I hear an unfamiliar voice. "Detective Benson, glad to see you awake. My name is Dr. Carmichael. I've been taking care of you for your stay." A hand reaches out to shake mine firmly. I squeeze back. "How are you feeling today?"

I can just about feel his eyes looking me over, checking out anywhere I had been injured and was now just bandaged, or mostly healed. "Considering I took a bomb blast to the face, not too bad." My stomach gurgles. "Hungry, mostly."

The doctor chuckles. "That's a good sign. Means you're on the mend. Now I'm gonna take a quick peek under some of your bandages. I know you can't see what I'm doing, so I'll tell you before I do anything, and you let me know if something hurts or feels uncomfortable, okay?" I nod silently before he begins systematically checking my wrists, forearms, and legs. All of them are healing well, he tells me as he checks each one.

"Now for the grand finale. I'm going to turn the lights to the lowest setting and check your face. I know you probably just want to look around, but I'm going to need you to keep your eyes closed for this." He steps away and I hear the door close. Presumably the lights dim, but I can't tell from behind my mask of gauze. He comes back to my side. "Alright, sit up," he says, helping me. Fin puts a hand on my back, balancing me and reminding me that he's still here with me.

I can feel the doctor unwrapping the bandages from my head, and for a moment I wonder. "Please tell me that none of my hair has been shaved off," I say. Fin and Dr. Carmichael both laugh.

"No, Olivia, the only damage was to your face. We didn't have to shave anything," the doctor replies. I can feel the last few layers of gauze coming off my face, and I take a deep breath, smiling. It feels so good to have my skin exposed to air and to have some sensory input into my eyes. Even through my eyelids it seems bright in the room, though I know it's not. "Everything looks like it's healing quite well. We'll start you on soft foods today, and tomorrow we'll call in the ophthalmologist to take a look at your eyes. For now, I've got some drops to put in them." He pulls one lid up first, and the light nearly blinds me. The drops are painful, but before I can fully process the situation, the other eye is opened and drops are put into it. I can feel him place cups over my eyes to protect them from the bandages before I can think to wince from the drops.

"Can you wait just a minute? Please?" I plead. "It feels so good to feel the air on my face." For some reason I feel near tears again, like I'm about to be caged up again after a bit of freedom.

"Sorry, Detective, I've got to get you wrapped up tight again." He does sound apologetic, sincere, but he still places gauze on my face and wraps me up expertly. "I'll go ahead and change you from gavage feeding to soft foods, it should be here by lunch."

"Thank you," I whisper. I can hear him go to the door and open it, presumably turning on the lights at the same time. Once again I'm in the prison of blackness feeling utterly alone. I can hear him talking, but Fin answers whatever question the doctor asks and I sit numbly on the bed. The doctor leaves, but I'm not really paying attention.

"Olivia," Fin says insistently. He sounds worried. "Come on, talk to me. What's goin' on?" I don't want to talk, I just want to see, to feel the air on my face again. I'm trapped. "Livia, snap out of it." He's holding me by both arms now, I can tell his face is in mine, but I can't move. I'm trapped in my own fear.

Dimly I hear another voice, people talking, but I can feel myself slipping away from it all. I'm going numb. Somehow I'm reminded of a summer camp I went to one year as a girl. It was upstate, far away from any of the big cities. My camp counselor took us all out one night because we could see the Milky Way in the sky. I felt so tiny and insignificant when I saw it and realized how big everything was, and now I was feeling just as small and unimportant.

I can feel myself being picked up entirely off the bed by someone. He's carrying me a few steps away, but it feels like such a huge distance from where I feel safe, where I know my boundaries. I weakly struggle, but he sits and pulls my head down to rest on his shoulder. "Liv, listen to me." It's Elliot. He shouldn't be here. He's supposed to be at the station, grilling Ramirez, not here holding me. Everything I know is falling apart. How long have I been here, sitting in his lap? He's still talking to me. I try so hard to focus on the words. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise, I'm gonna be here for you, alright? It's gonna be okay. I know you just want outta here, but we've gotta make sure you're gonna be alright first. I don't want to have to break in a new partner because you didn't want to wait a few more days to get out, okay?"

He keeps on going, repeating the same things differently, but I can't bring myself to respond more than trying to get out of his arms. I don't want to be coddled, I don't want to be taken care of. I want to be back in my bed where I can lay safely without anyone needing to show me where the sides are. I want to be able to eat my own food and go home on my own. I want to be able to see, damnit! What the hell good is a blind police officer?

Eventually Elliot's monologue stops and his rocking stills. He won't let go of me, and for that I'm grateful. If he did, I'd probably fall off his lap and onto the floor. Besides which, I'm actually somewhat comfortable here. I can hear someone behind me shuffling around and can't make up my mind if I hope they put me back in my bed or leave me here. With a small sigh, I relax against Elliot and decide to stay put.

"You with me now?" he asks quietly. I nod against his shoulder. "Alright. You know where I am if you wanna talk, right?" I nod again, glad that he knows me well enough not to push me. If he wanted to he could easily get me to tell him exactly what's wrong, but he won't. I know him. I trust him.

"It's not like you're going anywhere anytime soon," I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck. There's a slight pressure on the top of my head, as though he kissed me there.

"Not going anywhere, Liv." He lifts his head and raises his voice. "It's not that I don't trust anyone else to watch you, it's that I don't trust you with anyone else." The other person in the room leaves, and I figure it must have been Fin, sticking around to make sure I was really okay.

"Elliot?" I say, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Who's with Ramirez?"

He laughs, and it shakes me in his lap. "God love you, Olivia. You're sitting here with a torn up face barely holding yourself together and you're asking me about the sicko we were chasing?" He kept chuckling. "He's fine. Won't confess to anything, but we've got him dead to rights."

"Fin said Munch was coming, that you were questioning Ramirez." I sigh. "Besides, he's more than the guy we were chasing. He put me here, remember?"

Elliot nods and I can feel it. "Yeah, trust me, I remember. And I was questioning him. Until Cragen pulled me out of the interview room." He shrugs. "He said excessive force, I said necessary questioning tactics. So he sent John in and kicked me out for a few days."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "Elliot, what am I going to do with you?" He tenses and I know he doesn't understand where my humor is coming from. "It's taken me so long to get you broken in, and now Dad goes and lets you loose on people alone? He obviously doesn't appreciate my system of reining you in." He relaxes again and I know I haven't offended him or hurt him.

"I'll tell you what you can do." He stands, not without difficulty, I noticed, and carries me to set me on the bed gently. "You can get better and come back to work." His voice cracks with emotion and I know he feels guilty over the whole situation.

I take one of his hands in mine and squeeze it. "Stop blaming yourself. Today I'm eating on my own, tomorrow the eye doctor is in to see me, and I should be back to work within a week or so." Of course that's just a number I pulled out of thin air, but I have to say something.

There's a finger on my chin, guiding my face towards his body. He wants to see me, and I desperately want to see him. "Liv, I should have-" he begins, his voice thick with emotion.

"Stop," I interrupt. "You should have done nothing different. This is a risk of the job, we both know that. And if you bring it up again we're going to be having a very different conversation, okay?" I put as much force in my voice as I can muster. It's been a very long morning already.

There's a tightness to his voice when he finally responds, and I can tell he's choking back what he really wants to say. "Okay," is all he says, but I know that if I saw his face there would be so much more written all over it. His hand leaves my face, but the other squeezes mine.

More footsteps coming in, delicate. "Good morning Olivia," I hear a chipper female voice say. I can immediately picture her as one of those girls that everyone wants to look like. Brunette with a ponytail, not a single hair out of place, makeup done to perfection. "My name is Brianne, I'm your charge nurse this morning. I see here we're removing your NG tube and starting you on soft foods Are you ready for the tube to be gone?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," I manage to say. She tells me all about what's going to happen then sits me up to take it out. It's not fun, but already my face feels better. My nose is free and clear from all the tape that's been on it and I can smell and breathe better. The nurse cleans all the adhesive junk from my nose and leaves me with some ice chips and water for Elliot to administer and strict instructions on how much is allowed. I would roll my eyes if I could. Leaving Elliot in charge of that is no better than putting it into my hands, I know I'll get it if I really want it. But the nurse doesn't realize this, and leave it in his 'capable' hands.

"El, how bad are my eyes?" I ask. There's a long pause and I wince. I can't help it, it's an ingrained response. "That bad, huh?" There's still no answer, but I can hear him shifting around in his chair, the ice is shifting in its cup. "Elliot, talk to me. I need to know what's going on. Right now you're the only person I have telling me anything."

He sighs heavily. "Well, we'll see tomorrow how good it looks."

I put on my best stern face possible. "That's a bullshit answer and you know it."

"It wasn't good when you came in. Both eyes were pretty bad. One had ruptured, the other was just cut up." The cup is set on a nearby table and Elliot puts both hands onto one of mine. "The doc got it all fixed up as well as possible, Liv." His voice didn't sound too upbeat.

"There's a but in there somewhere." I'm sure of it. There has to be. He wouldn't be this serious if everything was going to be fine. I hear him shifting in his chair again. I use my sternest voice on him, hoping it'll work. "Tell me."

"You're gonna be a desk jockey."

I feel the relief spread through me. "That's all? I figured that out when I was told my eyes were hurt in the first place, El. That's not too bad." A stint at a desk I could handle. "How long?"

"No idea. We'll get a better idea of how you're healing tomorrow when the eye doctor takes a look at it. That's why I wanted to wait." His voice is tight and I know he's holding back on me, but at this point I don't care what or how much. Fear has started to bunch up low in my gut and I reach across myself and put my hand onto his. "It's gonna be okay."

"Stop saying that!" I snap at him. "You don't know that for sure. All you know is that I'm hurt and you feel guilty about it and want to promise me the moon." I'm tired of the platitudes, of the promises that everything will be fine. Is it too much to ask for pure, blunt honesty? I pull my hands away from Elliot and turn in the bed to angle my body away from him as much as I can while not upsetting my IV line.

I can hear him stand and shift around on his feet uncomfortably. "What do you want from me, Olivia?" he asks quietly after a few minutes of silence.

"I want you to be honest. I don't want you to hold things back, and I don't want you to say things you can't back up. I want to know that whatever comes out of your mouth is something I can trust, because right now all I have is what I'm told." I turn so I'm in a neutral position on my back. "I can't read anyone right now, Elliot. I can't see the cues from Fin or Munch that tells me when they're not telling me something important, when they're hiding something. I don't know the first damn thing about the doctors and nurses around here."

"Meanwhile you can tell if I'm lying by reading my mind?" I can't tell if his voice is angry or amused.

I sigh. "No, because I know you well enough. I know your natural voice stress patterns and I know your cadence of speech. Anomalies indicate stress, and that's usually a problem. I can figure out the rest from there. I know your tones and can usually tell when there's more you're not letting on because I'm used to it by now." The fear is building in me. I don't want to push him away, he's my only lifeline left at this moment. "I need to still be able to trust you," I whisper, half to myself.

The bed shifts and he's sitting beside me in it, pulling me in close and wrapping his arms around me. "Olivia, listen to me carefully, okay?" I nod into his body. "I've never lied to you or hurt you by lying, and I don't ever intend to. If you need me to be your eyes for you, reading everyone and calling them out on their bullshit, I'll do it in a heartbeat. But if you want me to stop telling you that everything will be fine, I won't do it."

I try to pull out of his arms, but I'm tired and he's too strong. "You can't promise it," I manage to say.

"Yes I can."

I sigh heavily and shake my head. "No, you can't. Life is too messed up for everything to be fine. Haven't you noticed?" We pick up so many broken pieces of society in our line of work, and knowing that what we did helped one person at a time hasn't added up to much of anything after so many years.

"As long as you've got someone to watch your six and call you out on your crap, things are fine. I'm not promising great, just slightly better than shitty." And I realize he's right about that.

I once again try to disentangle myself form Elliot, and am only partially successful. I'm no longer in his arms, but at least for the time being I'm dependent on him. Until I get my eyesight back. Or so I'd like to lead myself to believe. Somehow I think he'll be making my life better than shitty for the forseeable future, maybe even longer. And maybe I'm okay with that.


End file.
